Game, Set
by rebeldesigns
Summary: Her awesome power could be contained... or harnessed. Bonnie Bennett is only human to face Loki and live, and S.H.I.E.L.D. wants her for themselves. But can she be persuaded? Crossover oneshot follow-up to "Trickster's Queen," with a hint of Captain America/Bonnie.


**Author's Notes:** Basically, this oneshot (and others) were borne out of out of a desire not only to ship Bonnie with all the things!113 but also to see how she would interact with characters from other "worlds" or "universes," so to speak. Some hinted Steve Rogers/Bonnie Bennett.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my words.

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**GAME, SET  
**

Most men would look downright ludicrous in a spangled spandex bodysuit and knee-high red leather boots; but then again, he was not most men. Not that she of all people needed reminding of this fact—it was seared into her mind, unforgettable like so much of the past few months she wanted so desperately to forget.

He carried himself like a man who didn't realize how impressive he was, despite all that he was sure to have accomplished. She allowed herself a few selfish moments of admiration for his form, eyes flicking from stem to stern, trying to ignore the involuntary clench in her gut when she managed to get a good, proper look at him. All-American indeed, born and bred (or created, if the rumors were to be believed) judging by his looks, which were a touch too wholesome for her tastes. Wheat-gold hair combed perfectly in place. Straight nose, impressive bone structure, pink lips fixed in a thin line. Cornflower-blue eyes, framed by lashes so long that she was practically offended. They swept high and low with each blink, and she found herself momentarily transfixed by their motion.

He towered over her as he stood, verily possessing the solid, sculpted musculature of an Olympian male in the prime of his youth. Of course, not quite the size of the blond Viking with the L'Oreal hair and the Shakespearian baritone. That man was built like a brick shithouse. She wondered if the hammer-wielding mountain of a man was behind that one-way interrogation mirror as well. She winked and blew a kiss to the glass, just in case.

The man cleared his throat pointedly and looked her in the eye for the first time since he had entered the room. His gaze pierced, reminding her of another blue-eyed man she once knew, lifetimes ago it seemed. Bonnie smirked at him as he stepped more fully into the sterile space, gingerly placing a black personnel folder on the stainless steel table between them. He looked to his left at the door from which he had just entered, giving a curt nod to someone out of her line of sight. At his cue, the hydraulics kicked in and the door sealed with a hermetic hiss.

They were alone.

He pulled the chair out and sat down across from her, crossing his legs stiffly at the ankles and folding his arms across his broad torso. They stared at one another for a few moments before he broke the silence.

"I understood you asked for me by name." His voice filled the empty space of the confinement cell with great swells before finally quieting. Authoritative, commanding, even, but not domineering in his tone. The kind of voice that possessed such quiet influence that people would follow his order without question or thought.

Bonnie shook her head. "No. I asked for _Steven Rogers_. I didn't recall requesting his tights-wearing, star-spangled alter-ego." She gestured to his suit with a dismissive wave.

The man called Captain America sat back in his seat, allowing only a ripple of a reaction (_frustration, surprise, perhaps?_) to pass over his face before replying. "I assure you, Ma'am, both identities are one and the same as far as I, and for that matter, the American people, are concerned."

Bonnie snorted. "_Ma'am_? Please, Captain, try to act like you belong to this time. Calling me my name will work just fine."

If he was offended or surprised by her remark, he never showed it. He flipped open the black file folder with a deft flick of his thumb, eyes dropping down to skim the contents briefly. She was awarded with a smile when he was finished. It didn't reach his eyes, which were wary as ever as they trained upon her own.

"Very well, Miss Bennett. Bonnie. That's a nice name. May I call you Bonnie instead?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Great. Now, since you specifically requested me, _Bonnie_, and you have been moved to this particular containment area which, as you've probably guessed, is not a level seven security zone, I assume you understand the purpose of this little conversation."

Bonnie gave him an indulgent smile. "Well, your superiors have finally deemed to bust me out of solitary confinement after two weeks of forcible detention and strict observation. I suppose that _this_ is the sound of my Sixth Amendment rights kicking in?" She gestured between the two of them with a finger.

He licked his lips before speaking. Bonnie followed the action lazily with her gaze, which seemed to unnerve him. The Captain tapped the black folder resting beneath his fingers on the table. "Do you know what this is, Bonnie? What the nature of this folder is?"

She leaned across the table bodily, draping herself over the metal to inch closer. She gently pressed her fingertips on top of the folder and pushed it back towards him with painstaking motions. "I think the more important question, _Captain_, is, do _you_? Do you fully understand who I am? Or what? If you did, you never would have voluntarily agreed to walk into this interrogation in the first place."

There it was. A tick in his jawline, barely discernible, except that Bonnie had been trained to watch for these things. She let out a low whistle. "Except that you didn't agree voluntarily, did you, Cap?" She lowered her voice and leaned even closer to him. To his credit, he did not move a muscle, instead gazing at her with the same calm, steadfast resolve that she imagined he handled all of his missions with. She shook her head, baffled. "What _is_ it you people want with me?"

When he sighed, he looked a lot older than his years. Or, perhaps, he looked the age he would have been. Should have been. He carried the weight of his weariness in his shoulders, which sagged slightly as he unhooked one long leg from the other and sat forward, so they were eye-to-eye.

"Bonnie, I think you know exactly why you're here and what we want of you."

She lifted a shoulder noncommittally, raven curls spilling over it to sway against the back of her chair as she did. "Maybe. But here's the question of the hour, Captain Rogers…" She lowered her voice further still to a purr, smile curling darkly across her face like smoke. "What is S.H.I.E.L.D. willing to do for _me_?"


End file.
